


Cenotaph and Casket

by spookyhat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cannibalism, Character Turned Into Vampire, F/F, Ghouls, Undead, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28994712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyhat/pseuds/spookyhat
Summary: Two young working girls are in for the night of their lives.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character





	Cenotaph and Casket

Beryl slid down the railing of her balcony, spitting onto the concrete of the alley below her. She was cold; her boss didn't dress her for the weather. In fact, the sisters at the Finishing School didn't seem to care much about her at all, besides the cash she brought in.

She put two fingers to her neck, where her last John bit into her. She could swear it was bleeding earlier, but the scratch seemed fine now. She was honestly surprised she didn't have more gaping wounds, given their clientele had a penchant for manhandling their girls. Nobody spoke up about it except her, and the one friend she really had.

"Mother's calling you, Bery." Sylvah pulled a sweater on as she sat down on the bed, lighting a cigarette. "Both of us, actually. She's not pissed, so that might be good." Beryl looked at her and stood up to stretch.

"I think the last guy bit me. Do you see blood?" She pulled her hair back and threw on a shirt, trying to collect herself. She had a healthy dose of fear for Mother, but no more than anyone else. Yet, she always felt like she was treated differently by her... maybe worse.

Sylvah shook her head. "Not this time. But he did a number - you've got a bruise on your back. Like, a serious one." Beryl turned to check, and indeed there was.

"Fuck!" She pulled her shirt over it and looked to her friend. "Think she'll notice?"

She shrugged. "Guess we'll see."

* * *

Mother wasn't the most charming woman, but she knew how to sell herself. She could sell almost anything, actually - religion, drugs, you name it, she could get it. Sex, though, was her primary business.

Two girls wasn't an uncommon request, but for uncommon clientele, she knew she had to play it safe. In this world, there are some people in this world who you can't risk pissing off - people who can do worse than just leave without paying.

When she met the guy face to face, she could tell something was off about him. Something troublesome - something she saw in a lot of the psycho fucks who wander into her building, except their pockets, and their hunger, only ran so deep. She seriously doubted the girls would last the night.

Not to worry. In the morning, she could negotiate their cost - and these people always payed out. With a half-grin, she quietly thumbed the deadbolt to the private suite.

* * *

The door closes behind Beryl while Mother whispers her final instructions. "Do whatever the hell he asks," exactly the words she didn't want to hear. Raising a hand to her neck again in fear of her maybe-scars, she follows her best friend into the suite proper.

The John's warped face isn't much welcome, even as Sylvah puts on her sleaziest smile and sidles up close to him. "Hey baby." He sat on the fitted mattress, yellowed eyes eating the girls' curves ravenously.

"You can call me Sylvah, but all the other boys just call me the Rubber Girl." She runs her hand across his pocked cheek, his slack jaw revealing black gums and strange, strange teeth.

Beryl stayed back a few paces, sizing up the strange client. Sure, most of her johns weren't wall street, but they kept good care of themselves. At least they went to the dentist once a decade. As she stared him down, she stripped, and he obviously appreciated the show.

"You wanna know why they call her that? The Rubber Girl?" Beryl adds, tossing her top to the side.

Sylvah takes the cue and straddles the man. "Lemme show ya."

* * *

The fun was over almost as soon as it began. Sylvah didn't even notice anything was wrong until, while folded in half backwards on top of herself in the middle of the bed, she felt something wet dripping onto her stomach.

Grinning, she began to unfold onto her front, but the man gripped her hips and dove straight in after himself. She began to moan, encouraging his mediocre job, when something caught the corner of her eye - a red stain on the white sheets.

Then she heard Beryl stumble off of the bed and collide with the drywall. Immediately, she felt the pain, and felt the rivulets of blood dripping down her skin - he had bit her.

Her first instinct was not to scream. Instead, it was to look for Beryl. She grunted and shifted her neck, looking to the wall.

Beryl was propped against the wall, bare chest running red with blood. One hand gripped her throat, muffling a strangled sputtering. Her eyes met Sylvah's, and she spared her last breath while collapsing to the carpeted floor.

That was when she decided to scream. With her only friend now murdered by this sick bastard who was clamped to her carpet, she realized something.

"That bitch set us up!" She cried while her legs wrapped around the man's head, and grabbed his trunk with her whole upper body. Clinging to his midriff and tightening her leg-lock, she began to flex.

Sylva, of course, wasn't just known for her flexibility. To get this flexible, she had to work out - and when you're working out normally, you get pretty strong. What she didn't know is that she was never really normal.

Her core began to burn and she began to feel the throbbing pain in her crotch spreading, tearing deeper holes where the confused and furious ghoul now fervently tried to pull his head away.

With a scream, and a wrenching pop, she helped him with that goal. The disembodied head, mouth and chin dripping with blood, flew through the air and collided with the wall above the bed, landing neatly on the white, fluffy pillow. The body fell limp over Sylva's, and with a great heave she rolled it off the bed.

She looked again at Beryl, whose eyes were still open, but she could tell her friend was gone. Her hand had slipped, revealing the deep and savage wound in her throat, which had ceased squirting blood over her face and body. Sylvah herself wasn't doing too well, as she felt a pallor coming over her body. Looking at the sheets, she knew she was losing blood fast. It wasn't like she had a phone with her, and she couldn't stand up to make it out the door.

So, she lied there, in a pool of her own blood. Repeating to herself, over and over again. "That bitch set us up."

* * *

Mother arrived that morning, hoping to find a very happy ghoul - and, possibly, two very dead young women. She was mostly hopeful that the wouldn't have to spend too much time beating the new girls into cleaning it up.

When she unlocked the heavy door, holding a cross for her protection, she wasn't expecting what she saw.

"That bitch set us up." Came a mumbled voice from a crumpled heap on the ground.

Mother reached inside to try the light switch - but the bulbs in the fixture blew instantly, sending the room into a deeper darkness, which silhouetted the mound on the floor in the light from the doorway. Its profile seemed too familiar to the old nun.

Beryl's slumped head began to shift. Slowly, the pale, expressionless corpse met her Mother's eyes, who couldn't help but stare at the grizzly wound in her throat.

"That bitch set us up." Sylvah's blood-coated hand lifts from Beryl's lap, pointing a crooked finger at Mother. Her eyes were just as dry, and her dark skin nearly matched the pallor of her friend. Her face, though, was not without emotion. Deep rage filled her being, and coated her face. "That bitch set us up!"

Like a beast she bounded from her rest, lifting her dead arms and legs with fury alone. Mother couldn't even scream before the new Ghoul pinned her to the floor and divested her of a few organs.

Beryl, her face still blank, rose from the floor as if against gravity, her arms crossed in front of her chest, sliding her hand against her neck - not where she was killed, but where she had been bitten mere hours before. Blood dripped from the wound, like drippings off a roast. To her left, a bed soaked in blood. To her right, a beautiful, strong, blood-drenched woman who just killed two monsters. Muscles in her face twitched, and she felt a tinge of something strange. Happiness?

Sylvah had excavated most of Mother's chest cavity, shoving red organs into her shredding teeth like popcorn, before Beryl stopped her with a hand on the shoulder. The two met glances, for the first time seeing another with new eyes.

A liver dangled from Sylvah's lips as Beryl kneeled in front of the corpse, gazes locked. Bloody hands passed the fresh organ between them; Beryl sunk her teeth deep into the soft flesh, the sheer intoxicating power of it awakening something deep within her. That feeling... hunger.

Sylvah let out a shuddering, voiceless breath; not so much as to breathe, for her body no longer felt the pain of mortality, but in sheer awe of the woman before her. The last of her functioning mind cried that something was wrong, but those calls died with the last few brain cells in her frontal cortex.

While their bodies and minds finished their unholy transformation, the two fell into each other. Clinging tightly like lovers buried side-by-side, they kissed for the first time in their life - and the first time in their death.


End file.
